With all the confusion and commotion of the wizard’s dual, the music had stopped. When her guests once again joined the festivities, the Matron Jasra motioned for the musicians to play. Entering with Zacnefear, Arielana immediately recognized the drumbeat that began the Nedeirra. A smile crossed her lips as she slipped away from Zac and moved toward the dance floor.

Arching her long lithe arms, she reached her hands to the clasp that bound her hair. Shaking her head slightly, she ran her fingers through and her white tresses fell freely across her shoulders and down her back. The eyes of those who had just watched the dual in the courtyard now enjoyed the subtle movement of the Matron's slender form as her body swayed to the rhythm of the beating drum. With one motion, she bowed, then rose with her arms reaching to the domed ceiling. Arielana’s crimson eyes flashed as they searched for her sister. Finding her, the wicked gleam shining from them offered a challenge.

Mavralyn, elegant and sensual in her black gown trimmed with gold, stood only a few feet away. The beat of the drums already had her foot tapping. As Arielana backed onto the dance floor, Mavralyn moved forward. With sinuous grace Mav mirrored the elaborate patterns that Ari wove with her body. When they reached the center of the floor, they turned and faced each other, fingertips touching. Their bodies moved as one in time to the music. Before long, all eyes in the room gazed upon the dancers' sensuous movements.

Side by side, the palms of one hand touching, they began to sway and circle each other. A flash of dark and shapely legs showing briefly, they traced interlocking patterns on the floor and the beat quickened.  Glancing at Arielana when the flutes added their mystic tones to the drumbeat, a smile curved Mavralyn's lips. Turning swiftly to the haunting notes, the sisters whirled away from each other with a grandiose leap, their bodies suspended for a moment.

Their arms wove complex designs before them as now the sisters circled the floor in great leaps and strides. One danced to the beat of the drums, the other to the melodic tones of the flutes, two dancers... one dance. Leaping and spinning, their bodies turned and twisted along opposite paths. As the music reached a crescendo, they met again in the center, their ebony skin glistening from the exhilaration of the exotic ancient ritual.

The drums slowed and the flutes hushed as their hands wove obscure designs and their bodies swayed in undulating motion. The story told, they linked their hands and bowed gracefully before the onlookers. Zacnefear and Jhiieri cast magical fire engulfing the Ilharess and Yathtallar in bright faerie light, signaling the others to join the dance.

The drumbeat again quickened pace and the alien notes of the flutes filled the room as the guests stepped onto the dance floor.

With the other nobles of Qu'ellar Dur'Eben, Karamiran arrived at the celebration and greeted the Matron Mothers and the new Yathtallar of House Elythanar, bowing to Mavralyn for the first time in their acquaintance. Keenly aware of proper protocol, she mouthed the appropriate phrases and made the appropriate courtesies, but gracefully escaped the throng at the first opportunity.

Weaving through the crowd, she held, but only rarely sipped, a goblet of wine and wandered restlessly, silently listening to scraps of conversation. Given the drow preoccupation with rivalry, intrigue, and lethal competition, she doubted many of the yathrinen gathered tonight truly wished to celebrate one of their number finding favor with the goddess - Mavralyn's rise in station created a new power to contend with. The chance to mingle with so many of Rilauven's nobles was rare enough and should be enjoyed. Perhaps something other than a captive slave's lifeblood would be spilled later; that would be amusing.

But all in all it was a fairly predictable gathering... even the posturing of rival House Mages held little interest once it was clear serious bloodshed had been averted. After prowling restlessly and being seen long enough to satisfy her Ilharess, Karamiran considered escaping to the surface and indulging her temper in a rousing hunt through the woods. But the arrival of the royal entourage halted her. She waited, silent in the shadows, as the Valsharess spoke to her Ilharess.

"Ilharess Arielana, Matron Mother of the 6th House of Rilauven... ARISE... Now Matron Mother of the FIFTH House of Rilauven, by the favor of Lloth!"

From her place in the shadows on the edge of the gathering, Karamiran listened to the Queen's proclamation with fierce joy. Her ice-blue eyes glowed and a wide, feral smile crossed her lips; with those few words, Qu'ellar Dur'Eben regained the station lost when its late Ilharess, Celestia, had died on the steps of the House altar. Yet another turn in the chaos which was Rilauven, Mavralyn's celebration countered by Dur'Eben's rise. The hum of conversation started again, as the gathered nobles reacted to another change in power. She decided not to leave just yet; this provided too great an opportunity for amusement.

Without turning, Karamiran spoke to the familiar dark presence just behind her. "Come, Morrollan, dance with me... NOW there is something to celebrate."

There was much to celebrate, and no one was wasting time. She had arrived with the rest of her House, staying by her mother's side while greeting the Malla Ilharess Jasra Dark, and waited in line not too long to congratulate Mavralyn upon becoming Matron. Her grandmother’s House had never looked more resplendent, at least not that she had seen.

Drow and drowess alike laughed with and schemed upon one another. The mood had passed festive.  Yvyll stood next to a shaped marble work depicting two embraced lovers emerging from the same featureless mass. To her it appeared as though they were struggling to free themselves from whatever bound their feet and legs together. She feigned interest while her escort explained the subliminal curves and streaks in the masterpiece.

He attempted to reveal to her the cyclical flow of birth, union, and death woven into the black and white rock. She could no more focus on what he was saying than she could focus her eyes. Her head was buzzing. Not from the art lesson, nor from the wine that was constantly refilled by invisible waiters. It was buzzing with excitement.

The Malla Valsharess had just left. In her wake, though, House Dur'Eben rocked with excitement. They had ascended one step closer to their goal. They were shown favor. Fifth House was not the first position, but it was closer. Yvyll was still weakened by the icy voice that had pierced her mind...

"Do you, as well, give your life to the Goddess, as your mother does?" It took a strong will to even speak to the Valsharess, but Yvyll had almost been overwhelmed while trying to converse with the queen in her mind. Her simple answer had sufficed, and the presence in her mind left, leaving, Yvyll thought, a sensation of traveling the Abyss in its place. It was that sensation that coursed through her now.

The scene around her evolved slowly before her eyes. It reminded her of how combat seemed when under the effects of hasting spells. She waited for a sign. It would come, she knew, and she would have to act quickly when it did. She drank deeply from her goblet, sighed and moved herself closer to stability. If she acted anxious she would arouse suspicion. That would mean death in this crowd. Thinking on this she slowed her breathing and cast a casual glance back to the lovers. They had not moved.

Calmer now, Yvyll patiently waited for Mavralyn's summons. After she had stood before and, for the first time, bowed to her Mother’s sister, Yvyll whispered to one of the attendants, requesting a time to speak to Mavralyn alone. She had thought it not too much to ask of her favorite aunt. She had learned much from the former Ust Dalharil d’Rilynt’tar (First Daughter of Rilynt'tar). She wished to thank her with a special gift. She would not give the gift to her, though. It was meant for Jasra Dark. Although the celebration was in Mavralyn's honor, it was Jasra's party. One must not offend the hostess if one wishes to return to the next party. Or, in the case of an Ilharess, leave this party alive.

"Yvyll, Drada Dalharil del Dur'Eben (Second Daughter of Dur'Eben), granddaughter of Jasra Dark?" At Yvyll's nod the servant continued, "Malla Yathtallar Mavralyn will see you now." She had watched the messenger approach, and she knew what his words would be before he spoke them. Swallowing the remainder of her glass of wine, she nodded again to the messenger and then turned to her escort. "Bel, now." He turned from the marble work to her, smiled and straightened his tunic and hair.

Her escort stopped a few feet further back than Yvyll as she approached Mavralyn. She bowed to the new matron and again gave blessings to the Goddess for showing favor. Mavralyn smiled and quietly waited for Yvyll to continue.